His gaze moves to my friend. “You must be Sara.”
She dims ever so slightly at the subtle way he tells her he didn’t even know who she was before she walked in with me. We’ve all gone to school together for years. She rallies right back though, offering him a big, fan-like smile. “Hey, Hunter.”
He doesn’t bat an eye at her casual admission that she definitely knows who he is; he already knows she does.
Discomfort trickles through me, but before I can fully process why, Hunter slings his arm around my shoulder and my capacity for thought shrinks. He’s so close and he has his arm around me—where people can see, too.
Maybe he’s making a statement. I guess we’ve only ever interacted with each other when we were alone until now, but his friends are here today and I already know they’re not impressed with me, hence his suggestion that I get new clothes.
They may not be impressed with me, but he won’t tolerate them treating me poorly, either—at least, that’s the vibe I get from his arm around my shoulder. It’s casual protection, and even though I think his friends are jerks, it makes me like him even more.
He keeps his voice low enough to make the comment private, but still playful. “I invited your boyfriend.”
My gaze snaps to him, my eyes widening slightly. “What? I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“Mark with the nice eyes,” he teases.
I completely forgot that I told him I liked Mark Poplowski. I was pretty sure we both knew I was lying, though, so I don’t know why Hunter thinks I’ll care that he’s here.
I glance at the table anyway and my face flushes as I notice they’re all watching us. Valerie doesn’t even bother to look away—or hide her confusion—when I catch her staring.
“What the fuck is this shit?” she asks her friends as we approach.
I’m still not used to the unabashed swearing—Sara and I just don’t do that—but I’m even more floored by it when I realize the brunette that had initially been turned away when I approached is turned around now and it’s Hunter’s mom.
Hunter’s mom is at the group hang? What?
If she’s fazed by Valerie’s mouth, she doesn’t show it. Her smile widens and she flashes me an excited smile like we’re best friends. “Hi, Riley! How are you doing, babe?”
It’s a stupid first thought to have, but I can’t help thinking that my mom would be so hurt if she knew I wouldn’t let her even walk me in, and apparently Hunter’s mom is shopping with us. I didn’t notice her when I first looked because they’re all sitting and she was turned away. Hunter’s mom is a thin woman and since she’s sitting down, she kinda blended in.
She’s also much more vibrant here today than the anxious mess I saw at their house trying to wrangle her abusive, dickbag husband.
The memory of what she allowed to happen to Hunter makes it a little harder to return her greeting with the same enthusiasm.
“I’m good, thanks. How are you?”
“Great,” she says, still brightly. “I love to shop, so this is right up my alley. Next time you’re over, I’ll show you my closet. I probably even have a few pieces I don’t wear anymore that you could have.”
That grabs Valerie’s attention. “She’s been to your house?”
Valerie’s sidekick pokes her blonde head forward. “If you’re giving away clothes, I volunteer as tribute.”
My ears perk up. “Hunger Games? I love that book.”
She looks at me like she didn’t expect me to speak to her. “Oh, no. I just saw the movie.”
“You should read the books, they’re so good,” I advise.
“It’s true, she has me reading the first one now,” Hunter states, lending his support to my suggestion. “It’s pretty good.”
Mark smirks at him. “She has you reading it, huh?”
Hunter slides him a dead-eyed look. “Don’t worry, Poplowski, we don’t expect you to join our book club; we all know you can’t read.”
Mark rolls his eyes and Valerie smirks over at him, then looks back at Hunter. Only when she does, my stomach sinks, because I recognize the way she looks at him. It’s the same way I look at him.
Aw, man. Valerie Johnson has a crush on Hunter, doesn’t she?
“I want to read it,” Valerie says. “Can I borrow your copy when you’re done, Hunter?”
“I’m actually reading Riley’s copy.”
Her smile doesn’t change, but something in her eyes does. It infuriates her that he borrowed my book. Shifting her crazy eyes to me, she says, “Can I borrow it after, Riles?”
Riles? Also, no. I want to say no. I don’t even like to loan out my books because I’m too afraid other people won’t take care of them. I made an exception for Hunter, but I definitely don’t want to loan it to her. I know beyond a doubt that if I do, I’ll never see it again. I doubt she’ll even read it, either.
I don’t feel comfortable just saying no, though, so I make up an excuse. “I actually promised it to someone else after Hunter. Sorry.”
“Oh, one of your other friends?” she asks innocently, cocking her head. “Who are your friends, actually? I literally forgot you go to our school. I must be such an idiot.”
Hunter’s mom stands, sliding her purse strap over her shoulder and flashing me a smile. “Why don’t we get going, babe? We have so much shopping to do. I’m gonna spoil you rotten.”
Hunter’s arm drops from my shoulder, and he turns toward Sara. She looks back at me with a flash of excitement before she follows him over to finally get an introduction to Wally. I watch as she beams at him excitedly, as she lights up even more when he nods in acknowledgment and offers back a “Hey.”
Hunter glances over his shoulder at me. He doesn’t say anything with words, just gives me a speaking look before taking off with his friends—and the only one I have.
I frown at Venus as she starts to walk, seemingly expecting me to follow. “Wait, they’re all going in the other direction.”
She glances at her son and his friends, then back at me. “Oh, yeah. Hunter wanted me to help you pick out some clothes first, then you can catch up to them and I’ll get lost for a little while. Sound good?”
I frown, looking over my shoulder. Sara is walking next to Wally, looking up at him with stars in her eyes while he talks to her. Valerie Johnson has sidled up next to Hunter and she casts him a fawning look, too.
This sucks. I can’t believe he just ditched me with his mom and went off with his friends.
My sigh comes out as more of a huff, but I turn my attention back to his mom. “I don’t know what Hunter told you. My mom only sent me with $20 for spending money, I can’t really…”
“Oh, no, honey, it’s on me,” she says dismissively as I fall into step beside her. “I’m so sorry about the other day. That was definitely not the first impression I would’ve liked to make on one of Hunter’s friends. My husband… he’s volatile, especially when he drinks. I always tend to go for those volatile messes. I’d advise you not to follow in my footsteps, but I see the way you look at my son.”
My cheeks flame, even though she said it playfully. “I don’t think Hunter’s that volatile,” I mutter.
“That’s because you haven’t made it onto his bad side yet. Hopefully you never will, but I’m sure you’ll see other people get there. No one can hold a grudge quite like my son.”
She looks over at me like we’re girlfriends shopping together instead of an adult shopping with her kid’s friend. I don’t really know what to say, so she goes on.
“He takes after his dad a lot. That man ran hot and cold. Either he was volcanic, or a complete iceberg. When his love was flowing over me, it was the greatest thing I’d ever felt, but when he turns on you… oof. Not good,” she says, shaking her head.
“Hunter hasn’t really turned on anyone, has he?”
Her eyebrows rise like she’s surprised I’m so out of the loop. “Don’t you remember Marshall Gough? He was Hunter’s best friend in elementary school.”
“Vaguely. Didn’t he move a couple years ago?”
I think he used to be one of the popular kids, but I had forgotten about Marshall Gough until she mentioned him. We were all in the same fifth grade class together, but I only ever spoke to him once—and it almost got me in trouble.
Marshall was something of a class clown, and one day during science he earned a few chortles with some dumb comment about how the planetary nebula we were studying looked like a woman’s vagina. He was sitting at my table between Hunter and me, and since I was not one of the chortlers, I guess Marshall felt the need to convince me. He started tracing the picture in our textbook with his fingertip and saying things like “See it now? You’ve got one, you should recognize it.”
Since the jerk wouldn’t stop talking to me and he was embarrassing me, I told him to leave me alone and pay attention. That’s all I said, but I happened to say it when the teacher was looking at our table. Mr. Branch snapped, looking directly at me, and my heart plummeted. I thought I was going to get in trouble for talking when I wasn’t supposed to be, but at the last moment he changed his mind and his gaze shifted to Marshall for the verbal warning.
Venus nods. “He and Hunter had a falling out. Things got so bad for him at school, his mother decided to pull him out. She open-enrolled him somewhere else for middle school so he could have a fresh start.”
I can only stare at her as she says this like it’s acceptable. “What? What do you mean it got so bad? Like, Hunter… bullied him?”
“I wouldn’t say bullied,” she says, her tone rising by a couple octaves. “Hunter’s just… he can be a little intense if you cross him. Like his father,” she adds, like that helps. “His father pretty much ruined my modeling career just because his fiancée found out about us and left him. It wasn’t my fault. He’s the one who initiated things between us, and stronger women than me couldn’t resist that bastard, but at the end of the day, I was the one he punished.” Looking over at me with wide eyes, she adds, “And she came back, so I don’t know what he was so upset about.”
It’s all I can do to keep my jaw from dropping open as she says all this to me like it’s perfectly normal. My mom and I have a very open and honest relationship, but my mom isn’t nearly as scandalous as Hunter’s. I don’t even know how to process what she said, let alone respond to it.
Seeming to sense she’s over sharing, she waves away that conversation. “Anyway, let’s not focus on all that unpleasantness. We’re here to shop. Do you know what kind of look you want to go for?”
I shake my head, glancing down at my clothes. I’m wearing light denim jeans and a plain T-shirt. “Not really. I can’t take home a whole wardrobe or anything, though. My mom will flip.”
“Okay, no problem. We’ll keep it simple, get you some staples. I’m thinking a great pair of jeans, some black leggings, a couple tops, a stylish jacket. Oh, this is going to be so much fun,” she enthuses, flashing me a big grin.
I try to smile back, but I’m definitely feeling intimidated. “Yeah, so much fun.”
Chapter Five
IT TURNS OUT shopping with Hunter’s mom is fun.
She’s a lot to absorb right off the bat, but the more time I spend with her as she hauls me through stores collecting more bags than I wanted to take home, the more I realize she just lives in her own world. She regales me with horrifying stories of “fun” things she did back in her modeling days, but recounts it all with fondness, like it’s nothing to be ashamed of. She buys me things I think are really pretty, and a few things I try to talk her out of because I know I’ll never wear them.
“Camel looks so good on you,” she insists, holding up a top that… well, I’m not sure if it’s a shirt or a bandana, but it doesn’t cover nearly enough skin.
“I’m never going to wear it,” I tell her, shaking my head. “It doesn’t matter how pretty it looks.”
“Nonsense. It looks great. We’re buying it,” she announces, draping it over her arm.
“I really think we should stop,” I tell her, glancing anxiously at the stuff she has already bought me. “We already have so many bags. I feel bad about you spending so much money on me.”
“Nonsense.” She waves me off. “When I got pregnant with Hunter, I hoped so hard he’d be a little girl so I’d have a daughter to doll up and shop with. Obviously, he was not a girl. I still dressed him cute, but boy clothes just aren’t as much fun as girl clothes.” Suddenly inspired, she says, “Oh, we need to get you a couple dresses! Every girl needs a little black dress and a little red dress in her closet.”
“I don’t really have a lot of occasions I need to wear a dress to,” I tell her.
“You’ve got those middle school dances, right? Picture this walking into your next one: you’re rocking heels and a flirty red dress, a black leather jacket, and a cute clutch purse. Oh, we need to get you a clutch. And makeup. We need to get you mascara. Your eyes are beautiful, a little mascara will really make them pop.”
I look around at the five shopping bags we have already accumulated. “I literally cannot take all this stuff home with me. My mom sent me to the mall with twenty dollars.”
“We’ll condense before we send you home,” she assures me. “It only looks like a lot because of all the bags, we can easily fit everything in just a couple. Don’t worry so much. Is your mom really going to be mad that you got to go on a shopping spree she didn’t have to pay for? Come on, now.”
She will, though. Not least of all because it’s not just some shopping spree she didn’t have to pay for—it’s a shopping spree sponsored by Hunter’s mom, and anything having to do with Hunter sets my mom on edge.
“Heeled boots,” she says, suddenly inspired. “Black heeled boots.”
“I don’t think…”
But she isn’t listening. She’s wandering off to the cash register to pay for the shirt I told her I’m not going to wear so we can go shop for boots I’ll also never wear.
_______________
After a full day of shopping, Venus and I have returned to the food court. She bought us bubble teas and sat me down to give me a makeup tutorial.
She only bought me a few makeup items, but she taps each one as she tells me what I need to know. She bought me a moisturizer, too. Apparently, Venus Keller believes it’s never too soon to start moisturizing.
“You’re not going to wear a lot of makeup, and you’re definitely not going to look like you wear a lot of makeup,” she tells me now, as she carefully applies a coat of mascara to my lashes.
I try to keep from blinking, but I feel like she’s going to poke me right in the eye.
“Your everyday makeup is only intended to enhance your natural beauty, so you don’t want to use a heavy hand. For an evening look or a special occasion you can get a little more dramatic, but for a day at the mall?” She shakes her head. “Take Valerie, for example.”
I stiffen a little just hearing her name.
“Valerie is a very pretty girl, but she’s trying too hard; she needs to tone it down. The pale blue eye shadow she’s wearing today? No woman needs to own that awful shade of eye shadow. I did the same thing when I was your age, though,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Tried so hard to look pretty I just ended up looking like a clown. When I started modeling, I learned a better way, so I’ll just teach you now and save you the painfully awkward stage.”
I crack a smile. “I appreciate the effort, but I don’t wear makeup daily. I don’t really wear it at all.”
“Maybe not now, but you’ll probably start to soon. It usually starts around the time you notice boys,” she says lightly. She finishes my mascara and leans back, smiling at her handiwork. “Beautiful.”
“Can I see?”
She nods, screwing the cap back on the mascara and opening the powder compact she bought me.
I take it, checking out my reflection. I look the same, of course, but she’s right—my eyes do stand out more with the mascara. “It looks pretty. Thank you.”
<
br /> “That’s the thing about makeup,” she tells me. “It’s not always about looking good, it’s about feeling good. I just feel better when I wear it.”
I flash her a smile and close the compact, handing it back to her to put in the bag.
“You can put it in your purse.” She hands me the mascara, too. “We’ve got to condense bags and hide the evidence anyway, right?” she teases.
“Right,” I murmur, sliding the makeup into my purse.
She said it like she was joking, but as she folds up the bag, she echoes a question her son has already asked me. “Is your mom super strict?”
I shake my head. “No, not really. Aside from Sara, my mom’s my best friend. I think she’s just worried that I might be starting to like a boy, and she’s not ready for it,” I explain, even though it makes my face heat up to admit it—and to his mom, no less.
“I get that. My mom was the same way when I was your age, believe it or not. But the more restrictions she put on me, the more it convinced me that I must be missing out on something really exciting. It didn’t keep me from boys, just made me sneakier. I was a bit of a rebel,” she confides.
I smile faintly. “I’m not.”
“I can see that,” she says dryly.
Ordinarily, I would never dream of asking an adult to explain their relationship, but since Venus has shared so much with me already today, I try to think how to ask her what’s going on with her husband. Hunter is convinced she’s in the process of leaving him, but nothing I’ve seen and nothing she’s said today has backed that up.
At the same time, she has to be, right? He hit her son. He hit him so hard he had a black eye, and I saw the hostility between them the day I was over at his house. Surely it’s not okay with Venus that the man she’s in a relationship with dislikes her son so vehemently.
One time, my mom had a boyfriend that didn’t like me. It wasn’t that he was mean to me (and he certainly never laid a hand on me), but he seemed disinterested in getting to know me or interacting with me more than he absolutely had to. She thought maybe he was just being shy at first so she brought him around more to break the ice, but he always seemed mildly annoyed when I was around.
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